


Collared

by TheWritingMustache



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: child killer, in progress series, slight AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-28
Updated: 2013-03-28
Packaged: 2017-12-06 18:16:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/738662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheWritingMustache/pseuds/TheWritingMustache
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He has never been a free man. Even from his earliest of beginnings, everyone has wanted to catch and claim the Eagle as their own. He is watchful, he is deadly, he is a killer. It's in his blood, and that seems to be what everyone is after.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Collared

**Author's Note:**

> I dunno if I wanna make this a whole series, I probably will, I dunno. I have like a million other projects, so don't except another update out of this one any time soon.

The warmth from the mouse slowly faded away, just seemed to seep into his palm and drain away into nothing. It had been a quick kill, a small but quick snap to the neck, the mouse barely had time to squeak. For some reason he kept expecting it to move, to bite his fingers then scramble away. But it did not move. It made no noise. It was dead. Like all the other mice that had seen their end at his hands, its fate sealed the moment it made its presence known to him.

He shifted his hand experimentally, watching the tiny body bounce in his hand, but still it remained motionless afterwards. He squeezed the mouse tightly in his fist, listening for the cracks and breaks of bones, a small, small thrill of delight shooting through him when he finally heard what he was waiting for. But it was now a dead mouse, a crushed mouse, a mouse that was of no use to him 

"What do you have there boy?" 

He turns to his current master, a large man with muscles bigger than his head, and a glare that could make even mountains tremble. He holds out the crushed mouse to his master as an answer. His master peers down at it critically, then laughs, loud and booming at it. "The little vermin catcher. Living up to your true potential" his master chuckles, a gigantic hand patting his head. The his master turns away to go bark at his men.

He watches his master go, blinking after him, then down at the mouse in his small mitt. He carries the mouse away, passing by the men who cower under his master's voice, and out the door to toss the mouse outside. His master's hounds that guard the door immediately leap at the body, and one quickly devours it whole. He does not dare reach out to pet the dog, merely retreats back into the house and back to his corner.

Altaïr resumes his silent watched, awaiting orders or beatings from his current master, and then waiting for anyone who would want his master dead to break in. So far his current master is mighty and strong, and let's no one get away alive. Like the mice Altaïr hunts, attackers are caught swiftly, and their lives stamped out with a great force. But they will always come. They will always be looking for the Eagle. They will always come for him.

Altaïr Ibn La'Ahad is five years old. The year is 1170. And he too, like his mice, is hunted. But for what purpose aside from the need to kill, he does not know.


End file.
